


High Heels

by cosofsin



Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Aphrodite in a dress and heels, Deathmask is an idiot, M/M, Out of Character, because he's that fab
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 20:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17669927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosofsin/pseuds/cosofsin
Summary: Deathmask is late, Aphrodite is not okay, and Shura? Shura is a good friend who only wants his Long Island Iced Tea, Goddammit!Not beta'ed!





	1. Putting it On

**Author's Note:**

> this story is inspired by my queen JoJo's song called High Heels.

The night is still young.

And yet, Aphrodite is quietly nursing his Manhattan. Away from the sea of writhing bodies moving in sync with the pulsing beats. Unlike the previous nights, where he would be the center of the dance floor. Tonight, he opted to just stand here, near the bar, watching everything with a strange sense of dettachment.

He knows it is pathetic. He knows _he is_ pathetic. Standing there, sipping on his drink without doing nothing in particular other than looking pretty. With his form-fitting black dress and five inches heels, the Swedish man looks like he is waiting for something or _someone_ of importance. Only to have that person bailed out on him in the last minutes.

And that is what happened.

Well… mostly.

See, the _man_ he was waiting for, did not exactly cancel their meeting. But he might as well did because he made Aphrodite waits for two whole _friggin’_ hours. No message. No phone calls. And every attempt Aphrodite has done, gone straight to voicemail. That’s no way to treat your date. And fucking Deathmask, is going to pay for this miserable night Aphrodite has to endure.

This night should’ve been their anniversary night! Aphrodite even went extra on his make up and put on a bold red matte lipstick on his lips. Something that Deathmask shamelessly admits as his kink (because it looks pretty when he devoured that sinful lips and seeing red smeared all over Aphrodite’s mouth). On top of that, Aphrodite even willingly puts his feet on a torture device known as stilettos.

And they are hurting like a bitch now.

He needs a miracle and fast!

“Dite…?”

“….Shura?!”

It seems like the Gods indeed exist and they heard Aphrodite’s plea.

“Dite! It is you! What are you doing here? And what’s with the….. _getup_?”

Shura is one of the few people from Deathmask’s circle of friends who Aphrodite genuinely likes. Dare he say, he and Shura are good friends. Thus, Aphrodite is able to tell exactly what happened that night and why he is dressed to the ninth in a gay bar. Because Shura will be symphatetic and wont outright laughing at his misery.

“Man, I’m so sorry to hear that, Dite…”

“Not your fault, Shura. It comes with dating an idiot after all…” Aphrodite brushed off Shura’s apology with a bitter chuckle. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Deathmask standing him up on their anniversary is hurting him. He was usually okay with Deathmask forgetting something. But just last week, the Italian completely forgot about Aphrodite’s birthday. And no matter how hard Aphrodite tries to be understanding—because afterall, his boyfriend is a busy man— _it still hurts_.

Sensing Aphrodite’s gloomy mood, Shura gracefully plucked out the cocktail glass from Aphrodite’s hand before ordering another one. This time being a glass of Vesper. Flashing his winning smile to the sad Swedish, Shura hands the drink to Aphrodite.

“The night’s still young, Dite. I might not be your boyfriend. But let me cheer you up tonight!”

With a small smile, Aphrodite takes the offered drink.

“Humour me, Shura.”

\---

Deathmask knows he fucks up.

_Royally._

Just last week, he completely forgot about Aphrodite’s birthday. The Swedish man made sure Deathmask paid dearly for that. And the Italian still shudders with the remembrance of how the _punishment_ went.

Gods, he doesn’t want to go through that again.

But he’s as good as signing his death certificate now. Deathmask is sure as hell that Aphrodite will dump him now. He cursed his boss, his job, and on top of it all, he curses his phone. The stupid thing died just when he needed it the most. And without any means to recharge it, Deathmask was left with little to no option. So, he decided to just brave it all out and went to the bar where he supposed to meet with Aphrodite. Yelling the bar’s name to the cab’s driver, scaring the poor soul.

Hoping against hope for Aphrodite still at that place.

Deathmask knows how important this day is for Aphrodite. And he’s observant enough to know that last week’s drama really really hurt Aphrodite. The Swedish likes to think he hides his emotions well enough, while in reality, Deathmask can read him like an open book. The subtle gestures, the quiet voice instead of the usual bubbly flirting—the Italian sees through it all. And he wants to make up for it. If it takes him apologizing on his knees, then so be it. Because Aphrodite deserves nothing less.

The establishment comes into view. In his haste, Deathmask very nearly forgets to pay his cab driver. The old man—bless his soul—only smiles knowingly. It’s like he knew, Deathmask is on a mission to fix something very important in life (and maybe, somehow, he really knew. Old people are weird like that).

Countless scenarios are running through his head. From Aphrodite crying and making a mess of himself at the bar to no Aphrodite at all. But one thing for sure, he does not expect Aphrodite to be grinding sensually against Shura’s crotch on the dance floor.

“…what the fuck…”

Even from afar, Deathmask can clearly see how beautiful his boyfriend is. Long wavy turquoise hair flowing with his movements, alabaster skin, slender figure wrapped in a form fitting black dress, and a pair of legs with dainty feet fitted in a pair of five inches _Louboutin_ stilettos. Aphrodite is such a sight to behold and Deathmask has no problem appreciating it.

Only…

Aphrodite is his. And Deathmask has no problem in showing it.

So, he strides to the dance floor and yanks Shura away from the beautiful Swedish. Ignoring Shura’s indignant shout, Deathmask grabbed Aphrodite’s waist and pulls him closer to his body.

“Having fun without me, Dite?”

\--

Through his peripheral vision, Aphrodite can see the moment Deathmask barged in into the bar. Only by his sheer stubbornness does he manage not to yell his boyfriend’s name and creates a scene. Instead, the beautiful Swedish starts to rub his body sensually against the Spaniard in front of him.

He knows Deathmask can see them clearly. He also knows it is very petty of him. But Aphrodite doesn’t care in the slightest. He wants to show Deathmask what he’s been missing. Though, he’s a bit sorry for Shura. The Spaniard was so surprised when Aphrodite started to grind his pretty behind against his crotch. Because, as far as Aphrodite knew, Shura only has his eyes for Aiolos, his long-time partner. And he’s a faithful partner. So, he surely doesn’t deserve to be yanked out so rudely by his own friend.

_“Having fun without me, Dite?”_

With a smile that does not really reach his eyes, Aphrodite faces Deathmask.

“If you can call waiting your bastard of a boyfriend for three hours is having fun, then yes, Deathmask— _I am having fun without you_ ,” the Swedish beauty answers coldly.

The deep chuckle he receives greatly surprises Aphrodite.

“You’re making this poor man jealous, Dite. And making me jealous is never a good thing.”

“What the fuck do you mean—OI LET ME DOWN YOU BIG DUMMY!!”

Effortlessly, Deathmask lifts Aphrodite’s slender form like a potato sack. Uncaring with how the other patrons are looking at them now, Deathmask smacks Aphrodite’s behind for a good measure while still looking at Shura. The Spaniard looks confused and slightly incredulous with how the situation unfolds.

“Deathmask—”

“Relax, Shura. I hold nothing against you.”

The Spaniard breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, if it’s okay with you, imma take my feisty rose home, now,” Deathmask tells his friend cheerfully. Ignoring the angry shouts that comes from his angry boyfriend.

“Sure. He’s been waiting for you all night, Deathmask…” answered Shura carefully.

“I know. And I intend to fix this up.”

Shura stares at his friend and grins. Deathmask maybe an idiot sometimes. But when he has a goal in mind, he will do everything in power to achieve it. And Shura is pretty sure, by the end of the day, the pair will back to their silly selves.


	2. Taking it Off

“LET ME GO YOU BIG BUFFOON!”

Aphrodite continues to thrash and squirm on Deathmask shoulder. Even on their walk to their apartment which conveniently located near the bar. How no one is awake with all the noise they caused is a miracle. But Deathmask decides he doesn’t want to test his luck any further. So, he ran to their unit, unlocks the door with some difficulty, and slams the door close with his foot before depositing a wildly squirming Aphrodite on the nearest couch.

The glare he receives only adds to Deathmask’s excitement.

“You know, Dite… I never expected my beautiful Swedish rose to be so naughty. Willingly grinds against another man’s body…” Deathmask drawls while slowly approaching the Swedish beauty.

“This Swedish rose is sick of waiting his idiot boyfriend!” Aphrodite answers hotly.

Deathmask laughs softly.

“I will have to apologize for that, wont I?” He asked. “But you know me, Dite… I prefer to show you through action than words…”

“W-what? Aaah—”

A soft moan cuts Aphrodite’s words. So busy was he glaring at Deathmask, the Swedish beauty didn’t see those warm hands reaching for his body. Caressing him like no other ever had. Igniting something primal hidden beneath those sharp words. And while those hands do things to Aphrodite’s body, Deathmask lips lands on those bold red lips. Ravishing it without mercy. Smearing bold red lipstick everywhere. Stealing Aphrodite’s breath away.

“D-deathmask...you bastard…” panted Aphrodite.

“Ah, but I am your bastard, Dite…” whispers Deathmask coyly as he begins to asault Aphrodite’s milky white thighs with little nips and licks. Leaving a trail of tiny bruises on his wake.

He purposefully neglecting Aphrodite’s leaking member, even when he starts to pay attention to Aphrodite’s torso. He only stops for a moment to give it a gentle nip through the soaked panties that Aphrodite wears. Resulting in rather colorful curses in both Swedish and Italian. He is also rewarded with not so gentle tugs on his hair. He doesn’t mind it though. Not in the slightest

Fishing out a small bottle of lube from his back pocket, Deathmask warms a good amount of that clear substance on his fingers. A soft cry escapes from Aphrodite’s sinful red lips as Deathmask carefully breaches his entrance with two fingers. It burns, but nevertheless, Aphrodite enjoys it. And he shamelessly grinds down his hips on those talented fingers. Basically, bouncing himself on them. Giving Deathmask a show of his life time.

Deathmask on the other hand has stopped all of his ministrations and opted to enjoy is currently in front of him; Aphrodite, his boyfriend. Carefully, Deathmask pays attention to every inch that is his beautiful Swedish Rose. His expression wrecked with pleasure. Skin glistening with sweat. His black dress is riding up, showing the black lace panties that leaves little to the imagination and toned stomach littered with dark bruises. Lips smeared with lipstick. Stiletto clad feet. And finally, perfectly manicured fingers gripping the couch cushions tightly, while the owner is dancing lewdly on Deathmask fingers. Chasing his own release.

Slowly, Deathmask adds another finger. Along with it, he focuses on how Aphrodite’s entrance stretched beautifully around his fingers. Still so tight even after all the times they’ve spent together.

“D-de-death...mask…” Aphrodite panted harshly. “P-please…”

Usually, Deathmask will taunt Aphrodite and make him beg. But tonight, it’s all about proving to Aphrodite that he, Deathmask, is worthy of his forgiveness. Thus, he carefully unzips his trousers and freed his member. With a practiced ease, Deathmask rolled down a condom before positioning himself. And with one swift movement, Deathmask enter Aphrodite’s willing body.

A small scream is heard from Aphrodite as Deathmask bottoms out.

“Full… Oh Gods… So full… Deathmask…” babbles Aphrodite feverishly.

The Italian lets Aphrodite’s slender legs wrap securely around his waist before he begins to move. Slowly at first. Something that he often does when Aphrodite is an amorous mood. Making Aphrodite feel every movement and every drag in his deepest core.

A sudden idea came to Deathmask mind. An idea that makes him lifts Aphrodite’s body without even pulling out. Making Aphrodite cries out in a mix of surprise and extreme pleasure. Because in this position, gravity did the additional job of making Deathmask drove deeper into Aphrodite’s body.

“Shall we continue this in bedroom, my love?” Deathmask asks pleasantly. As if he doesn’t have a beautiful Swedish man clinging to him, delirious with pleasure.

Aphrodite can only nod as with every step that Deathmask takes, the pleasure amplifies. Overwhelming him.

Gently depositing his boyfriend on the bed, Deathmask spent a few moments to admire the beautiful being that is Aphrodite. Before his own aching errection demands attention and he sets a brutal pace. Intend to make Aphrodite come before him.

All too soon, Aphrodite arches his back as he releases all over his stomach and dress. Painting the silky material with droplets of pearly white liquid. He lies there, twitching every so often as Deathmask still thrusting in and out his sensitive body. And when Deathmask finally comes, Aphrodite can only whimper weakly. Too oversensitive to do anything else.

After slowly pulling out of Aphrodite’s body and throwing away the used condom into the nearby trash bin, Deathmask cleans up Aphrodite face, body, and entrance with a warm wet cloth. Then, he slowly slid the stiletto, panties, and dress off from Aphrodite.

The Swedish beauty is well on his way to the dreamland when Deathmask carefully pulls him into his embrace. Their naked bodies now so close, without distance. Pressing into each other under the duvet. Aphrodite sighs softly and burrows deeper into Deathmask’s chest.

“Happy anniversary, Dite…”

Instantly Aphrodite’s beautiful eyes snap open. The Swedish beauty stares at his boyfriend disbelievingly. Not daring to hope.

“I’m not forgetting our anniversary, Dite. In fact, I remember it clearly and I was so ready to meet you at the bar. But then, my boss dumped a last minute work to me. I couldn’t do anything but putting up with it,” sighed Deathmask.

“You could’ve called me… or answer my text…” answered Aphrodite with a little bit of pout.

Deathmask chuckles deeply.

“Ah, my rose… My phone died. And I foolishly forgot my power chord. I swear to Gods Dite, I never forgot our anniversary. And I promise I will be better. I wont forget your birthday again.  Trust me…”

It’s rare to see Deathmask this serious. But this rare moment makes it easier for Aphrodite to trust Deathmask. Three years together has taught him one thing: Deathmask may be silly. But he wont joke around with something as serious as his boyfriend’s feelings.

“I trust you… and I forgive you…”

A soft kiss lands on Aphrodite’s forehead, along with a softly whispered ‘thank you’.

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAYYYY! You've reached the end of this story! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I do! Til next time!

**Author's Note:**

> You've reached the end of the chapter! Thank you for reading my story! Next up: the good ol' smut.


End file.
